I wanted to pull her to my body and kiss her tonight before she left the Batcave.
It was hard to keep myself under control, but with strong discipline, I succeeded in not standing too close to her.
How much longer I can control myself and my actions, well, I can't actually say.
Of course, I know she's had a kind of hero-worship fixation on me, and until now I had it all under tight control.
God, so tight, just like her seemingly painted-on costume fits her so perfectly.
It's some type of supple fabric that stretches snugly across her curves.
I see much more than I should when she wears it, and it brings me too many dark and dangerous fantasies, fantasies that involve abolishing my self-control and doing all manner of salacious things to her.
I imagine tasting her blushing lip gloss.
Kissing those moist-looking lips.
Exploring her mouth with mine.
Ripping away her thin flimsy costume.
Touching, tormenting her bare skin.
I understand that the consensual age is 17 in Gotham...
How old is she now, anyway, 17, 18?
Does she wear those innocent-looking pastel-colored underwear, I wonder, as my cock hardens.
Is it cotton or lace?
Silk or nylon?
I do like silk, it feels so soft and warm to the touch.
Is she still innocent and intact, I wonder?
Has she already had her first kiss, first feel, first . . .
It's completely inappropriate, she's a kid for God's sake!
I need a cold shower...
or better yet, a good hard wank in the shower.
While thinking of her.
Nude, revealed, ready to learn.
She's already learned volumes from our training.
I could educate her in the ways of Tantric Sex.
Or the Kama Sutra.
I've learned from the best.
My cock is spurting all over my fist.
Shit, she's going to notice if I have an erection around her even with my jock armor.
My senses are still excited, more, I need more!
I get a bathrobe and switch on the computer, shuffling to the recordings folder, scanning for any footage of her in the cave.
I zoom in and stare at her tits and those hardened little nips of hers as I slide my hand faster and faster.
I use my bathrobe to mop up.
I feel terrible for harboring thoughts like these.
Then, I imagine those solid nipples of hers in my mouth as I stroke and lick and tease her until she whimpers.
I want to kiss her for several long consecutive minutes.
In my mind, she's breathless and gasping, but she doesn't pull away from me.
I quickly strip her naked and lay her on the gym mat as I tease and touch her.
She moans, eyes half-closed.
Maybe I do need a fast fuck from someone, it's never hard for me to find a willing partner, and besides, I can't possibly see her again tomorrow in this uncomfortable condition.
I need this badly, I'm desperate.
I dress and hit the clubs downtown.
I scope out a joint and find a pretty redhead sitting alone at the bar.
I walk over and ask, "Mind if I join you for a drink?"
As she turns her barstool toward me and smiles, I blanch, shocked.
It's her, it's Barbara, what the hell is she doing here?
Does she carry a fake ID card?
I look down.
She's having a can of soda, and I'm feeling immediately relieved.
"Uh, I'm so sorry, I thought you might be someone else," I manage to say, leaving out saying 'someone older'. I get up to leave
"Wait, I know you!" she says brightly, with recognition.
What? I've got to think fast...
"You're my father's friend, it's Bruce Wayne, right?"
"Uh, yes, I was surprised to see you here, " I manage to answer while trying not to stutter.